


and the sunshine was jealous

by delta_trevino



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light spoilers if you don't know what happens after high school, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Volleyball Dorks in Love, impulsive decisions that happen what you're in love as much as iwaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_trevino/pseuds/delta_trevino
Summary: They fit together so well it was a crime to keep them apart.Or, Iwaizumi misses Oikawa too much as they navigate the troubles of long distance.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei (minor), Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	and the sunshine was jealous

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S IWAOI EVERYBODY
> 
> scales of intensity:
> 
> angst: 1.5/10 (mention)  
> fluff: 8/10  
> lemon/lime: 1/10 (mention)
> 
> enjoy!

It had been going so well. 

Of course, after Oikawa left there was always that dull ache, the sadness that came with separating from the one Iwaizumi loved. But Iwaizumi was accustomed to the feeling. He was accustomed to how the room always seemed a little quieter and his bed colder after Oikawa left. How it was slightly lonelier, even though Oikawa was on the other side of the phone.

The first two years long-distance had been the worst. The exactly 12 hour time difference from Argentina to Japan didn’t help either. Oikawa had called him at random times in the day and the night, sometimes just to hear him breathe because he missed Iwaizumi. Oikawa had cried a lot. Iwaizumi found himself losing sleep just to talk to Oikawa during his day. Iwaizumi always stayed on the phone with him, even if they were both studying or doing next to nothing, because it was comforting. They got into a routine of calling each other at 8 in the morning for Iwaizumi, and 8 in the evening for Oikawa every day. When time allowed it, the opposite too. 

The long-distance had forced them to communicate, more than they ever would’ve thought to, which was scary. But it was necessary and there wasn’t a single ocean Iwaizumi wouldn’t cross for Oikawa and Oikawa wouldn’t cross for Iwaizumi. They had made it work, through static and phones and screen versions of themselves that couldn’t compare to the real deal. 

Now, four years in, they were comfortable enough with their routine. One of them would call first at 8, either am or pm, depending on who. And they’d talk, about anything and everything and nothing, while they got ready for the day, or for the evening. They shared a virtual calendar with important things, so Iwaizumi would wish Oikawa good luck with his games and Oikawa would remind him to go to bed early instead of studying late into the night. And they’d know why one of them was busy or couldn’t talk, which had caused a few fights in their first year. 

Now, they were okay with going one, or two, or three days without talking seriously if work prohibited it or someone was exhausted. Sometimes Oikawa would fall asleep right away on the call, or Iwaizumi would realize he had an early shift at the hospital, or life came up. And that was fine, they’d just pick up where they left off the next day. 

Now, after they met in person again, Oikawa didn’t sprint over his own shoes and almost tripped before collapsing in Iwaizumi’s arms. Iwaizumi didn’t rip into Oikawa right away. They didn’t charge through the airport and to Iwaizumi’s apartment where they could finally hold each other with such disregard for safety. Instead, they would meet in the middle with splitting smiles, Iwaizumi would take Oikawa’s luggage, and somewhat civilly head to Iwaizumi’s. But, of course, then they’d still kiss and kiss until their lips were bruised and hold hands, touch each other because they finally could. 

Now, they were accustomed to leaving and finding each other again. 

It had been going so well. 

  
  
  


So why was Iwaizumi leaning over his table head in his hands and trying to get a grip? He was shaking, a headache ringing despite pressing his hands to his temples, attempting to steady his breath. 

It wasn’t unusual for Iwaizumi to lose his appetite or a little sleep after Oikawa left, but this was another level. He had been relatively fine the first three days after Oikawa had flown back to Argentina, but this morning he’d just been hit with a huge wave of emotion. Longing, and frustration, and loneliness, and of course, love.

He stood up, unstable, walking around his small kitchen. Iwaizumi opened his phone to Oikawa’s contact, but his fingers didn’t know what to type. Oikawa already knew he missed him. Oikawa already knew, because it was like this for him too. 

Iwaizumi closed his phone with unsure fingers. 

He was going to throw up. 

Iwaizumi stopped walking, eyes closed, hands clenched, trying to steady himself. He wasn’t dependent on Oikawa, but he missed him like hell. Whenever Oikawa left it felt like something had been stolen, something was missing, and there was an ugly hole gapping in the centre of his chest. 

The next time they were going to see each other was probably early April, if that early. If not, summer. April was 4 months away. 

Iwaizumi couldn’t breathe. 

Fuck that. 

_ Fuck that.  _

Iwaizumi’s body was moving faster than he could think. He was searching up flights. Japan to Argentina. Non-stop. 25 hours.

There was one at 10:45 am. And 8:00 pm. It was 8:21 am now. He could do it. $2,933. Iwaizumi bought it. He printed the ticket, started throwing clothes into a backpack and dialled Mattsun on speaker. 

“Iwaizumi, it’s so early, man, Makki looks like he’s going to kill-”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Do you have thirty minutes?” 

Mattsun sounded surprised. There was some muffled talking on the other end. 

“Anything for you,” Mattsun said graciously. “That’s from Hiro.” 

“Can you drive me to the airport?” Iwaizumi shoved his charger and passport into the front of his backpack. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you were going on a trip, sure,” Mattsun said lackadaisically. “I’ll be there in 10.”

“Okay. I owe you both ramen. Thank you.”

“You sure as hell do,” came Makki’s voice from the other end of the receiver. A beep. 

Iwaizumi knew Oikawa had practice tomorrow in the morning, maybe he could surprise him. Or just run in and hit one of his sets. A stupid smile filled his face. 

Iwaizumi was also reasonably pissed at Oikawa. Only four days, and Iwaizumi was going to such drastic measures. He tried to just calm down, just breathe, but fuck no. He wasn’t waiting that long to see Oikawa. He was so done with waiting. 

He’d waited all through first and second year of high school with Oikawa and his other girlfriends, and then waiting to be alone to confess, waiting for a response, waiting and waiting and waiting. 

He wasn’t waiting now, because of stupid time zones and distance. 

Fuck that. 

Mattsun was outside to pick him up after seven minutes, groggy and blasting some wacky music Iwaizumi had never heard of. 

“So, what’s the occasion? Why the airport?” Mattsun drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I thought you were too busy to take time off.”

“I am.” Iwaizumi eyed the road signs. They would probably get to the airport in fifteen minutes. Then he’d have about two hours for check in, go through security and board. That would be fine. 

“No,” Mattsun adamantly denied. He must’ve connected the dots. “You’re not,” he accused. 

Iwaizumi didn’t answer. 

“You’re going to see Oikawa?” Mattsun was incredulous. “You saw him like five days ago!”

“I know,” Iwaizumi gritted. 

“Are you proposing?” Mattsun threw out. 

“What?” Iwaizumi matched Mattsun’s surprised face. “No.” 

“Oh.” Mattsun looked disappointed. “But you’re surprising him, and he’ll never suspect this.”

“I don’t even have a ring.” 

“But you have a while before your plane, right?” 

“Not really.” Iwaizumi hadn’t even thought about that. 

“Bro, you’re literally married to him already. You’ve been dating, for what, twelve years?” 

“Five.” 

“Same thing. Tie the knot.” 

Iwaizumi shook his head. “We’re young, you know that, and there’s too much uncertainty in the future.” 

Mattsun shrugged. 

Uncertainty in the future, not in Oikawa or Iwaizumi. If life wasn’t so harsh, Iwaizumi wouldn’t mind marrying Oikawa right now, right here and right now. Just saying yes right now. It wouldn’t make too much of a difference, Mattsun was right in that aspect. As far as Iwaizumi was concerned, Oikawa was his endgame. 

  
  
  


After Iwaizumi passed security and checked in, he realized what he had just done. Fingers clacked as he drafted a leave of absence for an “unidentified amount of time due to personal reasons”, and sent it before rethinking. 

Time slowed on the plane. Iwaizumi fidgeted when he was awake, tossed when he slept, continuously checking the time and hoping Oikawa hadn’t sent anything too important while his phone was on airplane mode.

Meals came and passed, Iwaizumi tried one or two movies, everything failing to catch his interest. He watched the clouds instead, opening and closing a report, impatient.

  
  
  


Iwaizumi hailed a cab at the airport after clearing security yet again, giving them the address of Oikawa’s gym. It was 11:57 am here in Argentina. 

Iwaizumi’s knee jackhammered against the hot seat of the taxi. Oikawa. Oikawa. His legs are aching from jetlag and his ears still haven’t popped from the height of the plane. But. Oikawa. 

It was jarring to be in a new country. The radio was in Spanish, huge murals of graffiti and small alleys that had houses full of character. The streets passed on a blur of stops and gos. The taxi driver wasn’t a good one, and Iwaizumi didn’t know if he was getting carsick because of his driving, or from withdrawal from Oikawa. 

It was weird. Oikawa used to be the dependent one. He always wanted a hand when he fell, someone to watch his accomplishments, some form of contact. But Iwaizumi wondered if maybe he was the needy one. He wanted to be wanted by Oikawa. 

It didn’t really matter. Iwaizumi just missed the person he loved. He didn’t need another reason to be here.

249 Sarmiento. Oikawa’s gym. Iwaizumi paid the taxi driver, shouldering his bag. He jogged up the stairs, yanking on the doors. The sound of volleyballs against a court. God, that was nostalgic. 

Iwaizumi looked around, taking in the white walls with banners and posters, brown seating chairs and loud music. Oikawa had described his gym at length before, and showed Iwaizumi pictures but the real thing was much different than he had imagined. He started down a hall towards what he hoped was the gym when he spotted someone Oikawa had posted online before. A teammate, wearing the same jersey as Oikawa and clutching an empty water bottle.

“Hola,” Iwaizumi called. He grimaced at his bad accent. The man turned towards him, taller than Oikawa and skeptical eyes. 

“Si?” 

“Oikawa Tooru?” Iwaizumi wished he remembered more of that Spanish Oikawa had tried to teach him during the first months of his time in Argentina. 

The man looked more skeptical. Iwaizumi got it. If someone foreign rushed into his gym, spoke broken Japanese and demanded to see Oikawa he’d be suspicious of him. Not to mention Iwaizumi definitely looked like a mess, hair wild and out of breath.

The man leaned forwards and then something seemed to click. Oh, what was his name? Iwaizumi knew he should remember it. 

“Eres Iwa-chan?”

It was strange to hear “Iwa-chan” on anyone else’s lips besides Oikawa’s. But that was good. Oikawa must’ve talked about him to the team. He wasn’t just a random dude that showed up here. 

‘Yeah, yeah,” Iwaizumi pointed to himself. “I’m Iwa-chan.” 

The man’s jaw dropped. “Iwa-chan? Soy Andres.  Oikawa está en el gimnasio.” Andres, supposedly, pointed towards two open doors down the hall. 

“Gracias!” Iwaizumi bowed before running down the hall. He peaked in the gym. 

Oikawa. 

There was Oikawa. The obnoxiously fluffy haircut of his, stupid face that concentrated during volleyball, sharp eyes that were analyzing every inch of the court. He was in a grey practice shirt and wearing compression volleyball knee braces, and he was so bright. 

Iwaizumi’s chest hurt. The good, he’s right there ache. The I love you ache. 

It was Oikawa’s turn to serve. Iwaizumi watched him weigh the ball in his hand, taking in a breath. Grounding himself before flicking it up and taking two steps into a jump. His jump is a little different from high school, but it was still straining upwards, to the sky. 

Just as Oikawa took off from the ground, Iwaizumi stepped into the doorframe. Oikawa’s eyes flickered towards him and his mouth parted in surprise. His form fell, and then he was scrambling towards Iwaizumi at the speed of light. Iwaizumi opened his arms, almost falling over when Oikawa slammed into him. 

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa’s arms were crushing him, running up and down his back, breathing in his airplane scent, holding him and fuck fuck fuck this was everything. Iwaizumi hugged him back furiously, blinking fast and clutching him tighter. This was home. Oikawa was home. 

They fit together so well it was a crime to keep them apart. 

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked again, forehead to forehead. 

“I missed you,” Iwaizumi buried his face in Oikawa’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

Oikawa breathed roughly onto his hair, chest rising and falling fast. “What about work?” 

Iwaizumi pressed a kiss on his neck, hidden by their embrace from everyone else. “Fuck that,” Iwaizumi said vehemently. “Fuck work. Fuck that.” 

Oikawa was going to say something again, so Iwaizumi kissed him. Properly, this time. On the lips. 

Oikawa melted, hands falling into his hair and Iwaizumi could taste the smile on his lips.

“I missed you, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi pulled back. He realized Oikawa’s entire team was watching them and the volleyball was neglected in the middle of the court. 

“Todos, esto es Iwa-chan,” Oikawa announced, hand still in Iwaizumi’s. 

Their captain, Iwaizumi guessed, said something in Spanish to Oikawa, who started sputtering and shaking his hands in denial. More Spanish was exchanged until Oikawa nodded, thanking the team profusely and dragging Iwaizumi out of the gym. 

“Huh?” Iwaizumi looked over his shoulder at Oikawa’s team members, who were smiling a little wistfully and elbowing each other. 

“Nothing,” Oikawa supplemented. “Let’s go somewhere.” 

“But practice.” 

“Fuck that.” Oikawa pulled on Iwaizumi’s hand harder. “Fuck that for today.” 

They burst out of the doors, and Oikawa caught him in another kiss. One of those confessional kisses, the I-love-you ingrained on his lips and knitted into his touches. 

“I missed you too, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathed. “A lot.” 

“Me too.” Iwaizumi watched Oikawa bite his lips. “Obviously.”

Oikawa laughed with joy, eyes light and sparking and god, Iwaizumi was too in love.

He smiled, pulling Oikawa down for another kiss. Maybe Mattsun wasn’t hitting left field with the idea of a proposal. 

And Iwaizumi knew he had been wrong. It hadn’t been going well a day or so ago. 

This. This. Was going well. 

Oikawa laughed again, and the sunshine was jealous.

**Author's Note:**

> 18 by one direction hits different when writing iwaoi
> 
> i've been absent for a while - working on a really long iwaoi and some short bokuaka plus reading like there's no tomorrow. i realized this was my first iwaoi, which is crazy to me, i've been working with them since May but i just never posted anything tagged them, but yes, i love them
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
